


baby be with me (so happily)

by cptniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Body Image, M/M, WTF, i dont even know what this is, i miss niall, niall says like two things, wheres niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:50:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2788979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptniall/pseuds/cptniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>inspired by the prompt “i sent a selfie of myself in the tub to the wrong number and you responded back with another selfie holy shit you’re really attractive”<br/>aka liam tries to send a photo of himself with a bubble beard in the bath to harry and accidentally sends it to the extremely attractive guy who found his textbook yesterday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby be with me (so happily)

**Author's Note:**

> a part of the seven days of ficmas (a series of mini-fics dedicated to brigitte)

Liam’s never understood the concept of baths. It’s literally just floating around in dirty water. Ever since Liam was about 12 and became too big to splash back and forward and create a tornado in the water, baths have seemed pointless and completely boring. 

But Liam’s physiotherapist says taking regular baths could help ease his back pain, and honestly, it’s getting a little too much for Liam to bear, so if he has to choose between giving up football and floating around in a tub for 15 minutes every few days, he’ll take the bath.  

The physiotherapist didn’t say anything about bubbles, but Liam can’t deny it makes the whole process a lot funner. 

He sinks into the water one afternoon, his body instinctively tensing up at the feeling of the sudden rush of heat. The bubbles envelop his body until he’s almost completely submerged, the only part of him sticking out of the water being his head and shoulders. 

His tub is pretty big considering how small the rest of his apartment is, which makes it easier considering Liam is anything but small himself. Liam frowns at this thought, squeezing absent-mindedly at his thigh. He’s been putting on weight lately, unable to run as far or as fast as he usually does due to his injury. He knows everyone’s noticed it - they’re just too polite to say anything. But Liam feels _fat fat fat_.

Liam’s been in the tub for five minutes and he’s already bored. Drying his hands, he picks his phone up off the shelf next to his head and starts to scroll through his Facebook news feed. It’s mostly the same old boring stuff - inspirational quotes, stories about peoples cats, photos of fancy looking food. But one post in particular causes him to stop scrolling for a moment.

Harry Styles  
10 mins  
I heard a little love is better than none…

Liam sighs to himself, leaning his head back on the edge of the bath for a long moment. It’s not the first emotional post Harry’s put on his various social media accounts lately - in fact, it’s one of exactly 23 that he’s posted in the seven weeks since he met Louis, “the short guy with the cheekbones” as Liam calls him to Harry’s face. He’s known as “Louis who won’t come out” when Harry’s not around. 

Liam of all people knows how hard it is to come out when you don’t think you’re ready, so he doesn’t blame Louis for being scared. But Harry’s his friend, not Louis, so Liam is on Harry’s side and wants him to be happy all the time, and this whole Louis thing has really been dragging him down lately. 

He really wants to help, he decides as he wades back and forth gently in the tub. He wants to cheer Harry up, wants to make him forget about all the pain, even if it is only briefly. 

That’s when inspiration strikes. Liam isn’t a genius, per se, but he does know his best friend better than anyone else, and he knows exactly what will make Harry smile.

Liam places his phone back down with one hand, using the other to scoop up a big handful of bubbles. He gently sticks them to his face, making sure to be generous, covering all of his actual beard until he looks like a young, handsome Santa Claus. Liam grins to himself as he picks his phone back up, opening it to selfie camera and snapping approximately six different photos of himself with the bubble beard. 

Liam got a new phone a few weeks ago, and he hasn’t gotten around to saving everyone’s phone numbers yet - but being that he barely messages anyone outside of Harry and Niall, he knows that the message chain on the top of his list is Harry’s. He quickly goes in to the messages, attaches the best looking (yet still stupid) selfie of the bubble beard, and presses send. He doesn’t even add a caption, which makes it even funnier in his mind. No context, just a funny, adorable selfie to brighten Harry’s day. 

He gets a message back no more than a minute later. Liam’s feeling really rather pleased with himself about this whole thing - that is, until he reads Harry’s reply. 

**+44 20 7946 0262**  
_Aha what’s this? x_

Liam frowns at his screen. Definitely not what he was expecting. He starts quickly typing back a reply, getting out “Don’t you like my new look!” before his eyes flick up briefly to the message chain. Briefly, but definitely long enough for him to see his mistake. And what a horrible, horrible mistake it is. 

The message above the selfie Liam just sent is from him, and it reads “Alright to easy. Thanksagain for that!”, which Liam realises in horror is definitely not a message to Harry. Liam’s messaged the wrong fucking person.

This is the guy who found one of Liam’s textbooks in the library the other day, saw his number on the inside cover and texted him about it. He’s never met Liam before, doesn’t know anything about him, and now he’s gone and send the poor guy a fucking selfie of him in the bath with a goddamn bubble beard. Jesus fucking Christ. 

Liam quickly deletes his reply with shaky hands, completely unsure of what to say next to this guy, when another message comes through. A selfie. Not just any selfie though - a selfie of perhaps the most gorgeous and breath-taking man Liam has ever laid eyes on.

He’s got sharp features, dark hair and dark eyes, his stubbled face pouting in a way that looks not at all silly like when Liam does it, but rather extremely fucking hot. Holy shit. 

**+44 20 7946 0262**  
_Think you may have sent this to the wrong number. Cute beard though :) x_

Liam feels his cheeks flushing red as he shakily taps out a reply. 

_I am so so sorry. And embarrassed. Mostly sorry. Sorry!_

**+44 20 7946 0262**  
_Haha chill, it’s fine. Happens to the best of us._

It doesn’t make Liam feel any better. Mostly because he knows the guy is lying just for the sake of being nice.

_So you’ve sent a photo of yourself in the bath with a beard of  
bubbles to someone whose name you dont even know?_

**+44 20 7946 0262**  
_Aha can’t say I have, actually. But I have sent texts to the wrong person before._

**+44 20 7946 0262**  
 _It’s zayn btw_  

**+44 20 7946 0262**  
_My name, I mean_

_I’m still embarrassed. (my name is actually liam)_

** +44 20 7946 0262  
** _So Liam, what exactly was it that lead to you sending such a lovely photo to someone?_

_Well my friend Harrys been a bit down lately so I thought that would cheer him up_

**+44 20 7946 0262**  
_Nice guy and has a sense of humour, you’re a bit of a catch aha x_

Liam’s face is suddenly burning again at the sudden realisation that Zayn might actually be fucking flirting with him. Zayn, who’s so sexy it’s actually almost physically offensive, is flirting with Liam. The chubby guy sat in a tub _still wearing a beard of bubbles_. Liam quickly swipes at his jaw with the back of his hand self consciously, almost like Zayn can see him, and takes a long moment to think of a reply.

It’s not like Liam’s never flirted with boys before. Except, well, when he has, it’s never really been flirting. More like Liam play fighting and ultimately hurting either himself or the person he’s trying to flirt with. 

Needless to say, Liam Payne is skilled at many things - singing, football, dancing, doing his hair - but flirting definitely is and will never be one of them.

_Speak for yourself, I definitely wouldn’t throw you back if I caught you hahaha_

Liam has decided he hates himself. 

But whatever bizarre kind of flirting he’s doing seems to be working, because Zayn replies to that message within minutes - and the next one, and the next one, and the next one, and every other message until all of a sudden, it’s 1am and Liam falls asleep with his phone is his hand, half way through typing a message about what his family do for Christmas each year.

\--

“What the fuck are you doing over there?” Louis’ voice is shrill and sounds irritated, but Zayn’s happy to ignore it. Until he gets hit in the head with a pillow, that is. “Can you please stop texting your sugar daddy long enough to actually listen to my story?”

Zayn hesitantly stops typing, just long enough to shoot Louis a glare from across the room. 

“He’s not my _sugar daddy_ , Louis. He’s…” Zayn’s voice trails off, so Louis just snorts in response. 

“He’s a friend.” Zayn says finally, hesitantly. He doesn’t want to give Louis a chance to respond, however, so he continues, “Besides, I was listening. You were talking about that girl you’ve been seeing that sucks your dick like a champ.”

Zayn presses send on his last message to Liam ( _hahah well maybe we’ll have to watch it together some time_ ) before locking his phone and dropping it in his lap. He does kinda feel like a shitty friend for spending so much of his time with Louis glued to his phone texting Liam. Louis looks down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly.

“Yeah… _her._ Anyway, I went around there again last night and we had sex and whatever. But now… Harriet’s… being weird again. I think she just wants a commitment, but, I don’t know…” Louis’ voice, which has softened, trails off at the end of his sentence. 

“Do you want to do the whole boyfriend thing?” Zayn asks. It’s been a while since Louis’ been in a relationship, and while he’s often sarcastic and light-hearted, Zayn knows full well that his best friend is well and truly a sap when it comes to love. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Louis says, voice still shaky. “But it’s just… this one’s different, I suppose.”

Zayn’s phone buzzes with another message, and he can’t help but look down to his lap and check if it’s from Liam.

**Liam :)**  
_Maybe? :( I don’t think I like the sound of maybe!_

Adorable. He’s so fucking adorable, it’s seems impossible. Zayn resists the urge to unlock his phone and hastily tap out a flirty yet reassuring response, instead refocusing his attention on Louis. Liam can, and will, wait. 

“Did he just message you again?” Louis sighs. “God, you two are sickening. Make sure you give me plenty of notice for the wedding, I’ll need to stock up on sick bags.”

Zayn shakes his head with a smirk. “You’re an idiot. We’ve not even met, we’re not getting married.”

“You still haven’t met him?” Louis’ eyes widen as Zayn shakes his head gingerly. “Oh my god, you’re kidding. You’re so lovesick, I thought for sure you’d be desperate to meet him.”

“I am!” Zayn whines, pressing the home button on his Nokia to read the message again. “It’s not like I haven’t tried. I mean, I’ve asked him so many times now it’s getting a little embarrassing.”

“Zayn Malik never gets embarrassed.” Louis notes. Zayn knows this is true, but you can only ask a guy to hang out with you so many times before it becomes more than obvious that he just doesn’t want to meet you. 

“Maybe he doesn’t want to meet me.” Zayn says out loud.

“Doesn’t want to meet you?” Louis echoes, loudly and dramatically. “You sent him a selfie, right? Even on your shit phone camera, there’s no way he wouldn’t want to meet you after seeing what you look like.”

Zayn laughs, scratching at his stubbled jaw. Louis never fails to make Zayn laugh, that’s for sure. But it’s never been his looks that he’s worried about.

Liam is so funny. He’s bright and shiny and bubbly and beautiful in so many ways - even through just a text message. He just exudes happiness. Every silly word in every one of his text messages makes Zayn want to paint a whole mural for him. And Zayn is… well, not quite that. 

It’s not that Zayn thinks he’s not a catch - he feels well content with who he is as a person. But he doesn’t feel like he’s the kind of person Liam would go for. He’s not funny, or quirky, or goofy. He’s Zayn - introverted, artistic, mysterious. According to Louis, anyway. And Liam’s spoken to Zayn enough to know that himself by now. 

So maybe Liam’s just decided that Zayn’s not the kind of person he wants to spend any actual time with. And that thought makes Zayn stomach tighten and his heart sink. 

“We go to the same uni as him. It’s not going to be that hard to conveniently run in to him.” Louis continues, leaning back in his chair. Zayn does feel bad about turning this into a him-and-Liam thing, especially with how tortured Louis seems about this whole Harriet thing, but he can’t say he’s mad about it. He feels like he’s bursting at the seams every moment he isn’t talking about Liam. Everything anyone says, Zayn has to restrain himself from saying “Liam told me about that” or “Liam really likes that” or “Liam said this the other day”. It’s becoming overwhelming. 

Zayn fucking _needs_ to meet Liam. Like, yesterday. 

“I guess I could find out what classes he has tomorrow and stalk him.” Zayn mumbles, scratching absentmindedly at his arm as he looks back down at his phone for what feels like the millionth time. His hands are itching to pick it up again. 

“Yes! Stalk away.” Louis crosses his feat on the ottoman in front of him. “You know I approve of a light bit of stalking.”

Zayn laughs in response, finally picking up his phone again to write out a message to Liam. 

\-- 

  
It’s not like Liam’s usually super enthralled by his political science class, but today he’s literally counting down the seconds until he gets to leave. Because, as it so happens, his professor for political science is very much against using mobile phones in class, and Liam has been desperate to check his since the second he put it in his pocket. 

When the lecture finally ends and Liam is free to leave, he practically rips his phone from the pocket of his black jeans. He feels almost hurt when he presses the home button and sees… nothing. No messages, no snapchats. Nothing at all from Zayn.

Upon checking their message chain, Liam is even further perplexed when he sees that he did in fact send the last message, and he did actually send it to the right person (he’s learned from his mistakes - all his contacts are saved under names now). Liam’s heart sinks even further when he finds himself wondering _why hasn’t Zayn replied yet?_

“Come on, Liam. We’ve gotta go work on this group presentation thing.” Harry mumbles from behind Liam, pushing gently on his shoulder. “Niall’s waiting for us in the library.”

Liam stumbles a little, taking a long moment to tear his eyes away from his phone and start walking again. His mind starts to fill with questions, possible reasons as to why Zayn hasn’t replied. Maybe Liam’s being too forward. Maybe Zayn’s losing interest, oh god _maybe he’s with someone else_. 

That last thought makes Liam feel sick to his stomach, so he pushes it to the back of his mind as best he can and readjusts his laptop back on his shoulder. The weight of it isn’t doing much for his knee injury, but he can’t ask Harry to carry his bag yet again. Mostly because Harry actually will do it, and Liam will feel incredibly guilty about it for the rest of the day. 

Together they walk through the campus, past the science labs and towards the library. Liam catches a group of mildly attractive girls looking him up and down, and tugs on his sweater a little to pull it out, removing any chance of it clinging to his body. He’d been super careful in his outfit selection this morning, much like every other morning lately, and chosen the largest sweater he could find. It’s actually Harry’s, and it looks like something Liam’s granddad would wear, but it’s big and it’s baggy and it hides Liam’s growing belly. 

Apparently not enough, Liam thinks as the girls finally look away from him. 

Liam’s stomach twists in even more of a knot when he considers the idea that maybe Zayn’s seen Liam around campus this morning. Maybe that’s why he’s not texting back - he’s seen what Liam looks like and he’s disgusted. How could a boy who plays football be so out of shape, he probably thought. 

Liam bites his lip, so hard it almost draws blood, as he once again checks his phone. No messages. 

This is exactly what Liam has been trying to avoid. It’s not like he doesn’t want to meet Zayn - because holy shit, does he. He wants to hold him and kiss him and feel his skin on Liam’s and never let him go. But Liam doesn’t want _Zayn_ to meet _him_. Because he knows Zayn would be horrified, just like Liam is every morning when he sees himself in the mirror. 

But it will be okay. He’ll lose the weight again when his knee gets better, and then he can meet Zayn, and they’ll be together and everything will be fine. Better than fine - great, even. But for now, Liam needs to keep his distance. Zayn’s too special to let him get away like this. 

His mind so filled with Zayn and thoughts of meeting him, Liam almost runs straight into Harry’s back as they walk through the door to the library.

“Oops, sorry mate.” Liam mumbles, taking a step back. But Harry doesn’t move - just stands there, blocking the doorway like a complete twat. “Harry, what the fu—“

It’s then that Harry moves, takes one or two steps further into the library so Liam can see what it is that made him stop. And standing there, staring at Liam at Harry with wide eyes, is fucking Zayn.

“Zayn?” Liam breathes, disbelieving.

“Liam!” Zayn beams back.

“Louis?!” Harry says, eyes glued on the shorter male that Liam now realises is standing next to Zayn.

“This is so fucked up.” Louis mumbles to no one in particular.

Liam would have to agree, if he wasn’t so caught up in the thought of _oh my god oh my god oh my god_. 

“Um… Hi.” Zayn repeats, and Liam suddenly, as if his brain has just started working again, pulls the sweater down so it covers his thighs and wraps his arms around his middle. This can’t be happening. 

“Wait, this is Louis?” Liam asks, turning his attention to Harry as he realises what exactly is going on. “You’re _the_ Louis?”

“And you’re _the_ Liam.” Louis smirks. “You’re friends with Harry?”

“Harry?” Zayn asks, finally breaking his eyes off Liam long enough to give Harry a once over. In a way that’s almost comical, his eyes fall back on Liam, before suddenly blowing impossibly wide as his head snaps back to stare at Harry again. “Wait, _Harry_?”

Zayn glances between Harry and Louis while Liam and Harry stare at Zayn, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Louis stares at the ground, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink under the sudden scrutiny. 

“Harry…” Zayn repeats. Harry frowns, so incredibly confused it’s almost tangible. “Suddenly everything makes a lot of sense.”

“I’m so confused.” Liam mumbles, almost forgetting that he wants nothing more than to have any attention on him at this point.

“Hi guys!” Niall chirps as he jumps down the last few steps of the library, landing next to Zayn. “What’s up?”

“I need to talk to Liam.” Zayn responds. 

“I need to talk to Louis.” Harry adds, while Louis continues to stare at the floor.

Niall just laughs, shaking his head as he turns to return back up the stairs to the computer section.

“Okay then. Freaks.” 

Zayn wordlessly leads Liam over to a table near the corner as Harry does the same to Louis, and as soon as Liam has sat down, his eyes are on his lap. It’s taking every ounce of willpower he has to stop himself from looking at Zayn right now, those beautiful brown eyes, but he just _can’t_. He can’t see the disappointment he knows is so obviously there, all over Zayn’s face.

“Liam, babe. Look at me. Please.” Zayn whispers, reaching his hands further across the table towards Liam. Liam swallows hard, ignoring the request. He can’t do this. He’s just not ready.

A long moment of silence passes, the only movement being Zayn’s hands retracted back to his side of the table and eventually into his own lap.

“Look, Li.” Zayn sighs. “I know I’m… I know I’m not… I don’t know.”

Liam frowns, eyes still fixed to his lap, and considers Zayn’s words (or lack thereof). Zayn can’t possibly think this is about him… could he? I mean he’s _Zayn fucking Malik_ \- possibly the most beautiful creation in the whole of the world. Intelligent, loving, funny, adorable, beautiful. Everything Liam could never hope to be, and everything that Liam knows he will never deserve.

Finally, unable to resist the urge to look at the most stunning face he’s ever seen, Liam looks up again. 

“Zayn, this is so 100% not about you.” Liam’s voice is quiet, choked, almost breathless. He feels breathless, looking at Zayn like this - like he’s just run a marathon. Zayn’s even more attractive than Liam remembers him being. 

“Then what’s it about?” Zayn asks, equally as quietly. 

“This is…” Liam clears his throat, returning his gaze to the table. “I’m not in very good shape right now, okay? I’ve hurt my knee, and I can’t train as much as I usually do with the team, and I’ve been eating shit because Niall’s a really bad influence, and I just…”

He lets the silence fill the blanks for him, unable to find a logical and succinct way to finish his train of thought. Not like Liam can ever find a succinct and logical way of getting his point across.

After what feels like way too long (seriously Liam’s starting to think that Zayn must have gotten up and left), Liam looks up again, his hazel eyes finding Zayn’s brown ones. 

“Liam James.” Zayn’s face is impossibly soft, his features melting the longer he looks at Liam. It doesn’t make sense. None of this does. “Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t want to meet me because you’re self conscious about your body?”

Liam’s throat dries up at the thought of admitting this, of making himself seem so foolish, but he nods. Zayn deserves the truth.

“Liam…” Zayn shakes his head, reaching across the table to Liam’s hand, so far that he has to lift himself from his seat a little. Liam quickly extends his arm further, making the task easier for Zayn, and finds himself with his hand linked with the other boys. “You have nothing to be worried about, babe. You’re fucking sexy. Just perfect the way you are.”

Liam shakes his head a little.

“My thighs are—“

“Are the thighs I want wrapped around me.” Zayn finishes, flashing Liam a cheeky smirk that lights up his whole face and crinkles his eyes. “‘M kidding. Sort of.”

Liam can’t help but laugh, the sound of it reverberating off the walls in the quiet library. 

“Seriously. You’re…” Zayn squeezes Liam’s hand, his smirk fading into a genuine, loving smile. “Liam, you’re so gorgeous. In more ways than one. But, I mean, you’re a babe.”

It’s not like all of Liam’s self confidence issues have just vanished, just like that. But hearing these words from Zayn, seeing the look in his eyes when he looks at Liam - it’s the complete opposite of how he expected this to go. And it makes Liam feel so loved and _important_ that he can’t help but think that maybe… maybe there’s nothing to be afraid of.

“I really like you, you know.” Liam blurts out. He feels his cheeks flush at this. He’s such an idiot sometimes. 

But Zayn fucking laughs. His teeth, white and straight and beautiful, on full display as he openly chuckles at Liam’s dorkiness. Not in a mocking way, either - in a totally lovely, endeared sort of way. 

“You’re so amazing.” He says finally, his gaze finding it’s way back to Liam’s hopeful eyes. “I like you too, obviously.”

“Obviously?” Liam smirks.

“Well,” Zayn starts, biting his lip. A slight tinge of pink reaches his cheeks. “It’s not exactly an accident that I ran into you today.”

“Zayn Malik, did you _stalk_ me?!” 

“I didn’t stalk you, I just…” Zayn pauses for a long while before bursting into giggles. “Okay, I can’t really explain that one away.”

“Does this mean you’re my stalker?” Liam retorts.

“Nah, I think it means I’m your boyfriend.” Zayn shoots back, a genuine and broad smile stretching across his face.

Liam feels his own smile reach his eyes as he squeezes on Zayn’s hand. 

“I can be okay with that.”

 


End file.
